12 prophets are holding me
keeping me on my feet
bathing in shadows
watching them
with a grin
cold hands holding on
the abyss below
nothing but darkness
i release myself
free fall and spreads my wings
into the abyss i fly
feeling
falling
seprate from this place
the shadows cover me
from my own two wings
spread wide
the more i flap - the more i bleed
the more i die
searing
from within
waiting to burst

the flames of the end are near, child
run and hide, child.
lied
to a child
to myself
broken dreams
shattered mind
no answer will suffice
to heal the wounds
what's left but to lick them
to feel the rusty taste of blood
shut eyes
silent
dead